126 The Turnpike Road. 



changes their character and leads to perpetual broodings. 

 As the wind that sighs in the pines at the door seems to 

 attune with the feelings, so all nature goads them on, and 

 the quarrel extends from the line fence to the straying cat- 

 tle and the use of the lane. 



There are many warm, sandy fields on Long or Karle's 

 Neck, often divided by hedges that have grown unkept 

 these many years. Clumps of sassafras and a variety of 

 other trees, have sprung up in these abandoned places, and 

 give them a peculiarly pleasant character. The yellow 

 and the pitch pines, have lain a carpet of needles, and the 

 paths that wind over it, are often dry and attractive in 

 Winter. 



The Indians once lived on the dunes, for their imple- 

 ments are scattered about, and you find the arrow-heads 

 and hammer-stones where they left them. There is a cer- 

 tain charm in picking a flint from the sand, and knowing 

 that the last human hand that held it before your own, was 

 that of a wandering Indian. 



Winter ought to be warmer to those who have built 

 their houses in these sandy situations. The low persimmon 

 trees, the pines, the open woods, and here and there the 

 barren spots that are always dry, seem to coax Winter not 

 to be too severe, and are ever beckoning to Spring. Some 

 of the persimmon trees retain their dried calyxes, and they 

 serve to show all Winter the fruitfulness of the tree, as 

 shavings tell of the carpenter's industry. 



Many a happy day has been spent wandering on the 

 Neck, the rabbits occasionally skipping about over the 

 clumps of Hudsonia, or poverty-grass, as it is called on 



